‘Your uncle is not a warrior?’
‘He was, but now he is, or was, a farmer.’ A sadness came over Redwulf then, quickly replaced by a clenching of his jaw and a hard look which passed quickly.
‘And you are a warrior, not a farmer?’ asked Kai.
‘Aye, with my father’s war band. We serve King Ida but are not now at war, so I help with the farm.’
‘Have you killed Britons?’ asked Arthur.
‘I have, but only raiders and murderers.’ Redwulf cast a frown towards the black cloaks and then stared belligerently at Arthur. ‘This is our land now. Woden made it so, and we shall hold it until the end of days. More of our people come, and soon we shall fill this entire island. It is the will of the gods.’
‘Who says it’s the will of the gods?’ asked Kai, a tinge of anger in his voice.
‘Our holy men. Woden and Thunor honour us with victory. How could we have won so many battles if the gods do not will that it should be so?’
‘Your gods are not our gods. How can you be sure yours are the most powerful?’ said Kai with a deep frown.
‘Many of you Wealas worship the nailed god. He is a god of peace, and that is why you lose. Ours are gods of war. They demand it, reward us for it. If I kill enough Wealas in battle, I shall earn my place in Woden’s hall and live forever as a warrior in the afterlife.’
‘And yet now you serve me,’ said Arthur, ‘so you won’t kill any more Britons. If it comes to it, which it surely shall, will you kill your own warriors when we face them in battle?’
Redwulf shrugged as though the question was nothing to him. ‘Yes. I have made my oath, and I will fight for you now. It matters not who I kill. Woden cares only that I fight well and die in battle. Then I can go to Woden’s hall. We Saxons fight each other all the time. Perhaps one day Ida and Octha will fight each other to see who is the strongest and should be king.’
‘We Britons fight each other too.’ Which was a pity, Arthur thought. The kingdoms of Powys, Demetia and Dyfed fought each other, and they fought with Dumnonia, Kernow and Elmet in never-ending cattle raids, or fights for salt farms, woodland, copper and tin mines, even imported wine. Each kingdom alone was too small to defeat the Saxons, but how could they unite when such petty fighting erupted every summer across Britain? ‘What do you know of Ida and Octha?’
Redwulf smiled and retied his golden hair at the nape of his neck. ‘Ida is old now but was once a great fighter. He came to these shores as a mere warrior, called here to fight for your king Vortigern, and became a king. Octha, too, will make himself a king somewhere. He is the second son of a king in our homeland, but there is constant war there with the Franks and the Romans, so he comes here to make his legend.’
‘Somewhere?’
‘Here.’ Redwulf cast his arm about the farmhouse, and shrugged. ‘Perhaps west, north or south.’
‘Vortigern is not our king,’ said Kai, becoming increasingly annoyed with Redwulf and the lazy way he spoke about the Saxon conquest, which had caused so much suffering.
‘He was king somewhere though, no? Now he belongs to Horsa.’
‘Vortigern is dead, and no man mourned his passing.’
‘Perhaps he is, perhaps not. But Octha is here, and so war is coming.’
‘And we shall be victorious this time,’ said Kai, daring Redwulf with his eyes, challenging the Saxon to contradict him.
Arthur left them at the farmhouse and went outside to piss. It was a clear night, and the sky shone with countless stars and bright moon as though the heavens peered at the world of men and Arthur went behind the building to relieve himself. No sooner had he started, than a figure came about the wall and surprised him.
‘Apologies, young friend,’ said Balin, raising his hand. ‘I did not mean to startle you.’
Arthur said nothing and carried on, keeping his eyes down as Balin ambled further along the wall to relieve himself.
‘Be careful what you say to your new Saxon friend.’
Arthur glanced at Balin, but the warrior stared straight ahead, and not at Arthur. ‘What was that, lord?’ Arthur did Balin the honour of calling him a lord, though the warrior no longer held any lands and was a mere war band leader. But the title seemed appropriate, given his fame and reputation.
‘I said careful what you say to the Saxon. He might sneak off when we aren’t watching and bring news of our location and intentions to his people.’
‘He has sworn an oath, Lord Balin. I do not think he will flee.’
‘An oath, you say? I have known many an oathbreaker, lad, and you have only known the Saxon for a day. He only gave you that oath to save his skin. So, watch him closely.’
‘I will, lord.’
‘It would be a shame if he slipped away. I’d have to bring the dog to heel.’
Arthur shuddered at Balin’s bitter words and imagined waking to find Redwulf lying in the cow byre with his throat cut. The warrior finished his piss and made his way back to the farmhouse. But halfway there, he paused and turned back to Arthur.
‘You fight well, lad,’ he said. ‘But if you want to be a leader of men in the war to come, you must harden your heart.’
‘War?’
‘Yes, the war with the Saxons. Why else do you think we are here? Merlin rouses Britain to take back what was lost.’
‘I thought we were here to rescue a princess?’
‘Of course we are. But in doing so, we must attack Ida’s stronghold. That will stir the Saxons from their victorious slumber. So, you will need your skill with weapons, young Arthur, if you are to survive what must come.’
‘But my father… I mean Ector and Owain ap Urien, march to protect their borders, not to fight a war?’
‘Urien and Letan of Gododdin know what is coming. Ector and Owain guard Rheged’s border in case the Saxons attack there. But there will be war, lad, whether it’s in Rheged or elsewhere. Merlin is loose, and war drums beat across Britain. Why do you think Merlin and I march together if it is not to bring war and death to the Saxons? I hunt Saxons, and my traitor brother who fights with them, and Merlin wants the fight. Britain needs the fight.’
‘We shall attack the Saxons in Lloegyr?’
